A Metaphor for Stockholm
by Predominantly Normal
Summary: After an unlucky run-in with a local turf gang, Tweek finds himself held hostage for ransom... And inexplicably smitten with the gang's youngest member, Craig Tucker. Tweek knows that his parents would do anything to bring him back home, but when the time comes, Tweek might not know if he even wants to return. Creek
1. The Prologue, In Which The Story Begins

**I DO NOT OWN SOUTH PARK**

_Author's Notes: _

_-I actually really like this idea... And now I already know everyone else is going to hate it._

_-Short, but this is just a prologue. _

_-Review, please. They make me soo happy._

* * *

_"Tweek. I need you to head up to the store;_ we're running out of bread."

That was what started it. A simple request to go down to the corner store not even seven blocks away.

Tweek groaned and his green eyes flitted to his window. The sun was starting to go down, and dusk was looming, threatening to jump on Tweek if he didn't pay enough attention. Tweek shuddered at the very thought of being enveloped by the shadows, vulnerable to every rapist, murderer, and drug dealer who wanted to kill him.

"D-do I have to?" Tweek asked, nervously picking at his thin, calloused hands. The blonde had taken up ripping at his hands to deal with stress, and the backs as well as the palms and fingers, were lined with scabs.

"For the love of God, Tweek. You're _eighteen_. Go get some milk." Was the short reply from his father.

"O-okay..." Tweek murmured, twitching at the aspect of going all the way to the corner store.

The twitchy boy fastened a green coat around his chest. He liked that coat in particular, even if the fluffy fur around the hood irritated his neck sometimes. Tweek didn't bother doing the buttons; he'd screw it up anyways, having the shakiness of an arthritis patient. Thunking on both of his boots, he took one last breath of the warm inside air. The smell of cooking spaghetti made him smile, and he was again dragged out with the prospect of having to go in the cold.

"Tweek, if you don't get the milk, how do you suppose we're going to make the coffee?" His mom asked sweetly, not turning from the stove.

Tweek sighed, knowing she had a valid point. Coffee seemed to hold his odd family together, and prevented it from breaking at the seams. He nodded dully, bracing himself for the cold. With little enthusiasm, he snatched the ten dollar bill that was on the counter and made for the door at an amble pace.

"See y-you." He muttered, opening the door and walking out, not making sure to see if she had even heard.

The cold air bit at Tweek's exposed skin on his face. Shivering, he threw his hood up, yanking on the tugstrings until the fabric covered everywhere up to the bridge of his nose, leaving only his eyes to peer out. Colorado was always unreasonably cold. It was the middle of September and snow pummeled down relentlessly onto Tweek's back, covering the sidewalks and streets in three inches of frosty powder. The cold was beginning to seep into Tweek's jeans and socks, and he moved quicker. White powdery snow pelted at his green eyes, and Tweek found it hard to see when he had to blink every three seconds.

Eventually, he made it to the corner store. Walking in, Tweek relished the blast of warm air that greeted him. He pulled his hood down, breathing through his mouth satisfyingly. A feeling of unreasonable independence washed over Tweek as he went over to the dairy aisle of the small shop and plucked a 2% milk carton off of the freezer shelf. Tweek strolled over to the register, plopping the carton, along with the ten dollars, down. Look at him! Getting hid own milk and everything! A store worker stood there reading a rather unsavory magazine. He was a middle-aged guy with dark, fraying hair and a mustache in desperate need of shaving. A name tag reading, "Jim" sat on his chest lopsidedly.

The Jim looked at him with confusion. "You's happy about gettin' milk? Wha's so good 'bout gettin' milk?" He asked, his voice miming the awkward redneck drawl that Colorado folks tended to carry.

Tweek suddenly realized that he had a stupid grin on. The smile stretched to his cheeks so that his eyes were in a constant state of mid-twitch. Tweek went red with embarrassment and turned away, trying to wipe the smirk off his lips.

"You's change is 'bout tree dollars." Jim said gruffly, dropping the 'h' in 'three'.

Tweek held out his hand and accepted the change, yanking the milk off the counter as well. Once he made sure he had everything, he raced out of the store, and into the dark of night. The twitchy boy wished he took time to re-adjust his hood, because his hands were full and the snow was freezing his face solid. Long legs carried him down the road at a swift pace, and his eyes darted around quickly, making sure to check down alleyways so that he could be sure nobody was going to jump out and kill him.

And for once, his paranoid thoughts were on the right track.


	2. Don't Drop the Milk Carton

**I DO NOT OWN SOUTH PARK**

_Author's Notes: _

_-First off, I realized (with the help of __**sir monacle**__) that I put the story as 'complete' on accident. It's not even close to finished._

_-I was having doubts about this chapter, so if you please, any sort of support would help. _

_-I searched up how gangs worked and well... I'm still not entirely sure. So most of this chapter is based off of __Warriors__ style territory confrontation._

_-If enough people dislike this chapter, I will change it._

_-If you reviewed, I would be sooo happy._

* * *

_The first sound Tweek heard was a _hushed voice. The boy's ears had been pricked and alert to pick up the smallest of threats. Tweek stopped to listen to the voice, squeezing his eyes shut and straining his ears to hear properly.

"I don't know what you're talking about." A rusty, aged voice hissed. Tweek flinched inwardly at the harshness of it.

"You know exactly what I'm talking about." A calmer, more collected voice called out. "Get your pathetic gang, or whatever you prefer to call your band of misfits, off of our land." It said quietly. The voice had a heavy Australian accent that made Tweek's spine chill.

"Don't insult my gang!" The first voice rang out, still hushed. "We did nothing wrong."

Tweek shifted uncomfortably. These were gangs! Literal, shoot-you-up gangs! He started to walk forward, but stopped mid-step. Maybe if he stayed, listened for just a little but longer, then he wouldn't be such a coward. That he could prove himself to be independent. Tweek decided that this was the best route and stalked off to the side of a sagging brown building. The roof barely covered him from the violent wind and snow as he pressed up against it to listen.

"Listen. Friend." Tweek could easily tell that these two people were most certainly not friends. "We have a shipment coming of very important stuff, and I do not want to walk through Crips territory to take it back." The first voice explained calmly.

"That isn't my problem." The first man snarled. "You're on my turf, and I have every right to fill your skin with lead." He threatened.

"Your turf!" The Australian voice shouted, enraged. "You stole this unwittingly! If anything, I should be threatening you!"

Tweek shivered. There was going to be guns, if either side got pissed off enough. He half wished that there might be a bullet shot. Anxiety pricked his skin and he started nipping absentmindedly at the back of his hand.

"Austin. Calm down." Another voice, younger and nasally spoke up. "Boss would rip your skin off if he got word of you firing down some men without speaking to him first."

"Fine, Craig." Austin grumbled.

"Are you hiding behind your 'oh-so mighty' leader once more?" The rusty voice taunted. "I always knew the East 80 Cobras were cowards."

Tweek contemplated that for a second. East 80 Cobras must have been the name of the gang in which Craig and Austin belonged to. Apparently, they were in a quarrel with a rival gang over land. The 'stuff' in question could range anywhere from guns to drugs and everything in between. Tweek shivered at the very thought, and his shaky hand dropped the milk carton.

The carton clanged to the ground rather loudly, making Tweek flinch. Under the canopy roof, the snow was thin so the sound could ring out clearly. The three voices all stopped talking at once, and a feeling of dread crawled into Tweek's stomach. At this point and time, he was to afraid to even move. Paralyzed, if you will.

"_Fuck_." Craig hissed. "Someone's been listening."

Tweek realized in a split-second that the someone Craig had mentioned was none other than himself. He barely had time to react as he heard thundering footsteps near him. The temporary paralyzation ebbed away and Tweek regained control of his movements. His long, slender legs raced down the streets, and he could hear the gang members closing in behind him.

Turning down alleyways, he tried losing his tail, but they seemed to be in much better shape than he was. They were within arms reach with Tweek's fluffy green coat. The blonde teenager scrambled blindly down a small alley, fear and adrenaline putting a thin barrier between him and the men chasing him. Heart pounding, Tweek raced forward until he came into contact with a metal barrier.

Tweek staggered backwards from impact, looking up at the fence that blocked his path. The metal menace was at least twenty feet in height, and Tweek couldn't exactly boast having the upper arm-strength to climb it. He stared hopelessly at the moonlit entrance, shrinking into the ground and quivering with fear.

"My my, we have an eavesdropper." The taller of the gang members spoke up. Tweek dully noted that it was Austin, distinguishable by his accent.

Austin flicked brown hair out of his eyes, staring down Tweek cruelly. Tweek flinched, and forced back a sob. The other one, Craig followed behind.

"What do you suppose we do with him, Austin?" Craig asked bluntly, narrowing his icy blue eyes at Tweek. A blue aviators hat was prominent on his head, covering up ebony hair. A few loose strands poked out on the sides, turning a dark silver in the moonlight.

"I w-w-won't t-tell anyone what I h-heard!" Tweek's profuse and ever present stuttering worsened to the point of barely decipherable. "I p-promise! I... W-won't..." He trailed off as tears began to trickle out of his green eyes.

Austin sauntered forward, kneeling down so that he was eye-level with Tweek. "I'm sure you wouldn't even _think_ of such a thing." He rasped unconvincingly. He leaned forward, so close that Tweek could feel his warm breath burning into his flesh. It reeked of alcohol and drugs. Tweek cringed in disgust, his nose wrinkling due to the acrid smell of marijuana and vodka. Austin pushed his arm forward, pressing Tweek into the brick building behind him. A dull pain echoed in the back of Tweek's mind, but his attention was directed at Austin.

"I say, we get something out of this." Austin purred alluringly, tracing his fingers along Tweek's jawline.

Tweek broke into a fit of sobs, clutching his head with his hands, dried blood from picking them sticking to the skin on his fingers. Austin's tone and words stung his brain like volts of electricity. Confusion ebbed at his mind, but Tweek couldn't place it over the sound of his own whimpers.

"Oh, come on now." Austin smirked. "You'll be fine. I wouldn't think of hurting you. _Much_." He added that last bit with emphasis.

Realization struck Tweek like a sledgehammer. He was going to get raped. By a gang member. Who probably wouldn't let him live to suffer afterwards. Tweek burst into more tears, crying heavily into his arms. He numbly felt Austin's hand ghosting at the hem of his coat, tugging at it ever so slightly.

"Stop it, Austin." A voice growled. Tweek instantly recognized Craig's nasally monotone, even though he hadn't even known he existed less than two hours ago. "Does your mind travel elsewhere besides-"

"Sex?" Austin asked, tilting his head to get a sideways view of Craig. "Not really." He admitted, grinning proudly.

"Whore." Craig grumbled, pushing past Austin and gripping Tweek's arm roughly. "Besides, don't you think we might get something else out of stray teenagers?" He asked, cocking his head slightly.

"Like what?" Austin asked dumbly, standing up.

"Ransom money, you dumbass." Craig groaned. Tweek's eyes watered again.

He had been saved from being raped, but there was still the looming possibility of being held hostage. Craig smacked Tweek's face harshly and the small blonde whimpered in pain.

"Shut up." Craig hissed. "Do you have a death wish?"

Tweek shook his head quickly in response. Craig's eyes trailed back to Austin's. "Get the van." He ordered. "I'll wait here."

"I don't remember being obliged to take orders from a kid." Austin growled, venom dripping in his voice.

"Austin." Craig's face contorted in annoyance. His eyes seemed to burn holes into Austin's posture, and Tweek saw him shrink down a bit. "I'm not going to ask you again. Get. The. Van."

Austin growled in protest, but still stalked off to go and retrieve said vehicle. He cast another angry glance at Craig before trotting off.

"T-thanks.." Tweek muttered when he was out of earshot.

"Be quiet." Craig commanded, tightening his grip like a vise. Tweek grit his teeth and managed to swallow a squeak of pain. "Who said I wasn't planning to have you all to myself?"

Tweek's already doe-like eyes widened. He stared up at Craig like a deer caught in the headlights. Perhaps he wasn't saved yet.

"I'm _kidding_." Craig snapped. "Unlike some people, I have morals." Tweek noted that Craig must be talking about his partner, Austin.

"O-oh." Tweek managed.

He had realized long ago that he could thrash and try to get away, but that would probably ensure him being roadkill. Both Craig and Austin probably had guns, and if not, he surely wouldn't be able to take either one in a fistfight or chase.

Natural light shone down on the snow, making it shine brightly. Tweek relished the sight, even though snow poured down on him. He tried to take in the mental picture of the moon shining and the snow sparkling. Who knew; this may be the last time he ever got to see them.


	3. Boy Toy

**I DO NOT OWN SOUTH PARK**

_Author's Notes: _

_-I fell in love with Hetalia over the weekend, so I would've finished this chapter earlier, had I not spent the majority of it on that._

_-Stan Marsh is slightly out of character, but it's a gang story, and he isn't going to be important until later._

_-Review, if you please._

* * *

"So, what do we have nyah?"

Tweek's eyes flitted around the gang's base; a family owned estate building. The boy had half-expected a creepy abandoned warehouse with men smoking weed at every which way. Instead, he was inside a small, dormant room with bright light fixtures and comfy furniture. It wasn't exactly picturesque of Hollywood's idea of gang hideouts. Not like Tweek was complaining. He fidgeted on the large leather couch in the back of the room by the entrance, Craig and Austin on either side of him.

At the front sat who Tweek supposed was the 'boss'. The man was a stout, heavy set guy with a mop of brown hair on his head. Amber eyes were bored as they stared at him, peering into his SOUL. He tapped a cigar to his ashtray, eyebrow slightly raised.

"This is -er- I never did catch your name, did I?" Craig murmured, turning to glance at Tweek. It amazed the blonde how formal and mannerly the gang member was, especially for his age and background.

"N-no." Tweek confirmed nervously. "M-My name is T-Tweek Tweak."

The Boss tapped his index finger on his desk before replying. "You're that kid who's parents own the coffee shop, nyah?"

Tweek nodded dully. He had cried himself dry long ago, when they were still in the van. Craig had told him that if he cried, he would end up with a knife across his throat. Craig's knife, to be exact.

"I might get some money from them." He mused, a bored expression on his face. "Still, I'm not going to be in charge of watching you." Amber eyes flicked to Craig, and the Boss spoke in a loud, commanding tone. "Since you were so keen on taking him for ransom, you should take care of him."

"What." Craig demanded, rather than asked.

"Unless you can find someone else. Now get outta my office, asshole." The Boss ushered him out with a flick of his hand.

Fuming, Craig dragged Tweek by his collar out of the room. Tweek stifled a yelp as they walked to the downstairs where people were milling about. Men played cards and drank, the smell of drugs growing overwhelming. Craig moved over to a corner, where a few others sat around. The ebony haired gang member stepped up to one in particular who was reading a book.

"Hey Craig." He murmured without looking up. He had a scruffy appearance and tattered clothing. Dirt covered every square inch of his body, and Tweek couldn't even make out the color of his hair. Most of all, he had the worst smell emitting from his body.

"Dogpoo." Craig acknowledged. Tweek hoped that was just a nickname. "I got a job that pays for you." He muttered.

"Yeah?" Dogpoo looked up hopefully. Tweek imagined that he wasn't the owner of this estate.

"See this kid? He's a hostage we're keeping for ransom. If you keep him for awhile, I'll pay you." Craig proposed with a monotone. He probably didn't have the silver tongue.

"No deal." Dogpoo answered firmly. "I can't feed another mouth. Go bother someone else." He returned to his book without further words.

"Goddammit." Craig muttered.

Tweek was carted around to several others, each of which all declined. He was actually slightly disappointed. Was he not good enough for even a burnout gang member? It was high school all over again. After almost giving up, Craig heard a loud yell.

"Hey! Craig! Over here!" Despite the friendly tone, Tweek caught a hint of slyness in it.

A boy that could easily be Craig's twin brother trotted over. A red trimmed blue hat sat messily on his head, raven hair sticking out of it messily. His eyes were a darker blue, but they seemed to shine much brighter than Craig's icy ones. A smile was plastered on the boy's lips, and he skipped over with zeal, not worrying about the glares sent at him from annoyed gang members.

"Marsh." Craig growled. Tweek noticed that Craig's face was drawn into a tight frown, and he seemed to be standing in front of Tweek, rather than flaunting him.

"Oh _please_, Craig. Just call me Stan." Stan grumbled, pouting. "You're such a downer, you know that?" Stan's eyes flickered to Tweek and a smile slowly appeared on his lips.

"What do you want." Craig demanded, not breaking eye contact to follow Stan's gaze.

"I just wanted to know who you were gripping by the arm. A boy toy of yours, hmm?" Stan taunted slyly.

"No. He's a hostage." Craig scowled.

"Oh. In that case, I can take him off your hands. I know how you hate having to take care of things more complicated than a guinea pig." Stan grinned, trying to step closer to the twitchy boy.

"No." Craig stepped in front of Tweek, cutting off him from Stan. "Er- Boss told me that I was to solely watch him. It was like a -erm- test. Yeah, a test."

"Aw, Cartman?" Stan raised an eyebrow. Tweek figured that Cartman was the name of the Boss. "I could probably convince him." The raven haired boy twisted slightly so Tweek could see the loose armsleeve of his jacket.

"W-what happened to y-your a-arm?" Tweek asked before immediately slapping his free hand over his mouth. "S-sorry! Don't kill me!"

"S'okay." Stan said, a flash of uncertainty in his eyes. "I got into a firefight with the Crips. One of them shot my arm and the wound got infected. It got so bad that they had to amputate the thing." He summarized quickly. Tweek understood that it probably wasn't his favorite subject.

"As I said, Stan. He's my responsibility." Craig barked. Tweek scowled. He felt like he was being treated like a dog to be watched over, but knew better than to speak up.

"Fine, fine." Stan waved him off. "But when you get bored of your boy toy, I'll take care of him." He left with a small wink that made Tweek's face tinge a light pink.

_Stop that, _he told himself, _you've nothing to blush about. He's a gang member, remember? Or are you to starstruck to recall? _

"Come on, prisoner." Craig hissed, his gaze still boring into Stan. "We've nothing left to do here."

"I t-thought you wanted to g-g-get rid o-of me." Tweek stuttered, dazed for an inexplicable reason.

"That was before Marsh came along." Craig expounded shortly.

The gang member yanked Tweek outside, and the chilled night air bit at his exposed skin. Some of his green coat had frayed from running, and his jean pants were ripped from the concrete. Craig's hand clasped around his wrist uncomfortably. Tweek was led to the parking lot, where Craig stomped over to his car. A white run-down truck, with red splotches that Tweek coul only hope were paint stains adorning the vehicle.

"Get in." Craig commanded.

Tweek reluctantly nodded, his hands shaking as Craig opened the passenger door for him and shoved him inside. Craig hopped around to his side and got in as well, jamming the keys into the ignition.

Tweek started to sweat as the truck started. So many things could go horribly wrong. He clutched his own thighs until his knuckles grew white. Deep, fast breaths left his mouth, and green eyes were locked forward and wide. Craig raised an eyebrow, but still drove forward.

Amaxophobia- Fear of riding in a car.


	4. Tweek's Prison Cell

**I DO NOT OWN SOUTH PARK**

_Author's Notes: _

_-Craig is such a polite jackass. _

_-Okay so if you've ever read 'First of the Gang to Die', that's where I got my idea for gay gang stories._

_-Pray for the Boston bombings, bros. Even I will, and I'm agnostic. _

_-Please review! _

* * *

"Here it is. Go on in, Kid." Craig ushered Tweek in rudely, shoving him forward.

Tweek tumbled into a nearby wall, cringing as he made contact with the plaster blockade. Craig shoved past him, shutting the door as he walked down the hall.

"I'm going to be absent most of the time, and yet I still don't trust that you won't try and run away." Craig muttered.

_And you would ever trust that a hostage would just stay put just like that_? Tweek thought incredulously, although staying silent. _Asshole_.

"So I'm limiting you to this room." Craig led Tweek into a small room in the corner of the hall, veering right.

Tweek trotted into the room, expecting chains, barbed wire, hell, _anything_ torturous and of cruel intentions. What he got was a small, tight space with nothing but a small bed and a desk in the corner. A single green desklamp sat on the corner of the desk, and Tweek seen that it was properly set-up, with a set of pens and a notebook.

"What's g-going to keep me in h-here?" Tweek asked, slightly annoyed that Craig was acting so damn hard to hate at the moment. He half wanted Craig to yank out a control panel and transform the room into a living hell.

But no control panel was yanked out as Craig softly nudged him inside the room. As Tweek inspected the room dully, he heard a loud clanging sound. Tweek whipped around, only to see Craig inspecting a broken door handle that was lying on the beige carpeting. The least Craig could do was get wooden floors and make the room slightly uncomfortable.

"This is." He replied, plucking the doorknob off the ground and pocketing it. The other side of the door remained, stuck in the 'unlock' position. Craig trotted out of the room and shut the door. A clicking sound alerted Tweek that he had locked it.

"See? You can't get out unless you bust the door down, and for some odd reason, I really just can't imagine you doing that." Craig said on the other side of the door, his nasally voice having an incense effect on Tweek.

"Y-you're an asshole." Tweek growled before slamming a hand over his mouth. "I'm s-sorry, i-it s-s-slipped and- and-"

"I know I am." Craig simply responded before Tweek heard the sound of receding footsteps.

Tweek stared at the opaque door, flabbergasted. He stood there for a few seconds, jaw hanging and rigid as stone before regaining his composure and shaking his head nervously. He flopped down on the bed, which, no longer surprisingly, didn't have any sharp needles or anything poking out of it.

Tweek sighed and sat up, twisting around so that his back faced the door. Slowly, he took off the green coat, making sure to fold it neatly and set it on the ground. Next, he crossed his arms at the hem of his sweater and brought it over his head loftily. Might as well be comfortable, if Craig wasn't going to make his life hell. After that, he yanked off his gray t-shirt, stretching lazily and folding it, adding the article of clothing to the pile on the floor. His bare back shone with sweat and Tweek realized how grateful he was to take off that stupid fluffy coat. Tweek sighed contently, rolling his shoulders.

"Bad time?" A voice called behind him. Funny, Tweek didn't even hear the door opening.

Tweek screamed, rushing to duck behind the bed. He wasn't sure why exactly he was so nervous and flustered; by eighteen a boy shouldn't be so awkward being only shirtless around another of the same gender. Tweek's face flushed a light red and he peered over the side of the bed to an awkward Craig, shifting from one leg to the other and looking at the desklamp.

Tweek had half a nerve to yell, '_knock next time!' _But knew better. He was probably already thinning Craig's patience. "Gah!" Tweek squeezed his eyes shut, hyperventilating all the while.

Craig set something on the desk and turned away, walking out of the room and shutting the door softly. Tweek took in a low breath before checking the door with wide eyes. When it looked like Craig wouldn't be coming back in, he scampered to the desk and glanced at the thing Craig had set on it.

A plate with two pieces of toast, an apple, and some milk sat on the desk, slightly at an angle. Tweek poked the apple with minor interest. Perhaps Craig ha poisoned it! Or maybe, he bought an apple with a food-borne illness! Hunger rumbled at Tweek's stomach and he bluntly remembered that his mom had been cooking when he left. He hadn't eaten for awhile, and he decided to take a risk.

He took a sip of milk and an eighth of one of the slices of toast. Chewing the food carefully, Tweek hurried back to his new bed and catapulted himself onto it, burrowing under the sheets. Curling around into a little ball, he stared out into the night. Tweek wasn't going to sleep tonight; he didn't sleep on a normal basis and the thought of a gang member only feet away wasn't really helping.

* * *

At around six in the morning, Tweek heard the door open again. He'd pulled an all-nighter, too afraid to even take a short nap. Unfortunately, he'd spent a majority of the night picking at his hands. A small shriek escaped his lips and he shoved his hand into his mouth, biting down into the damaged skin. He screeched again at the pain that flooded from his bite, tears edging his vision.

"How long have you been up." Craig said bluntly, trotting to the desk where Tweek's leftover food lay.

"You j-just woke me up n-now." Tweek lied.

"Oh." Tweek could tell that Craig didn't believe him fully. He rolled over and slunk off the side of the bed, quickly pulling on a shirt.

Craig stood by the desk, holding up the plate of food. A scowl was prominent on his face and his thin lips were drawn into a deep frown. He fumed silently.

"You didn't eat." He pointed out. Tweek's stomach clenched in annoyance.

_No really_? He thought indignantly.

"I wasn't hungry." Tweek replied shortly.

Craig said nothing, only narrowing his eyes and leaving the food there before walking out of the room and closing the door.

"I'm going out." Craig informed him dully.

"I'm s-staying here." Tweek muttered to himself.

Once Craig left, Tweek relaxed, but tensed suddenly. Now, with Craig gone, anyone could very well sneak into the house and kill him. Even with a gang member there, it was better than nothing at all. Especially since Craig could protect him with guns and other dangerous weapons. Tweek sighed and curled into his pillow nervously.

_Monophobia- Fear of being alone._


	5. Drunk Bastardo

**I DO NOT OWN SOUTH PARK**

_Author's Notes: _

_-Craig is really, really hammered. _

_-enjoy the fluffy stuff while you can..._

_-Please Review!_

* * *

_Tweek never liked being alone. _

Sure, it was less pressure always trying to say the right stuff or do something to entertain someone, but all the same, it sucked. He curled into the covers warmly, aware that he should have been screaming in agony or crying or something like that by time. Of course, the room WAS rather small and stuffy, -a bit larger than a walk-in closet- and sure, the place was cold due to a lack of heating, but honestly? Tweek couldn't complain in the slightest.

Tweek wondered when Craig would be back, and the idea made his face tinge pink. No doubt, Craig wasn't a bad looking guy; much nicer than Tweek was, anyways. And Craig was being really nice to him, as far as gang members were supposed to be. Hadn't he checked on him and made sure he had food? Yes, Craig was being nice. Tweek was almost positive.

Tweek's thoughts flickered to Craig's lookalike, Stan. Although he hadn't felt exactly SAFE with the noirette, he hadn't felt unsafe, either. He'd had that same pink flush on his face. Tweek still wasn't sure how long he'd stay barred up in this tiny room. Maybe Stan would take over, just like he said he would. He didn't know whether He'd be trapped and bored, or trapped and possibly in pain. Tweek didn't even know which one to chose, since this was pretty much boring him to death.

Maybe he'd try and take a nap, you know, to pass the time. Tweek rested his head on the pillow and curled up, his knees pressed loosely to his chest. His golden hair splayed out on the pillow quite annoyingly, and Tweek had to push it away from him several times. In the end, he let the hair win and tried to fall asleep even with an annoying itch.

Sleep never comes easy for an insomniac.

* * *

Tweek groaned. He didn't even manage to rest. Every little sound had him jolting awake, and ready to run. He wondered how long he'd been trying to get any sleep, when he heard someone tumbling through the door. Tweek sighed. He wished there was a window, or at least a clock or something. He was going to go crazy if he started to lose track of time.

The tumbling sound reached where he was and yanked open the door. Craig stood. In the small doorframe, eyes half-lidded and a goofy smile on his lips. He balanced awkwardly and held into the wooden structure for support.

"Hey, bastardo!" He slurred, chuckling at the end of his sentence. "I'm home!"

Tweek whimpered. Craig was (obviously) hammered. Craig sauntered forward and smacked Tweek across the face.

"Oh, sorry." Craig groaned apathetically. "I didn't mean to, ya know?"

Tweek rubbed the red spot, wincing at the small stinging sensation. Craig leaned forward, his warm breath reeking of cheap-ass beer. Tweek winced, shutting his eyes and trying to prepare for another strike. But instead of pain flowing trough his cheek, warmth did. Tweek tentatively opened one eye, staring at the gang member who was kissing his cheek. Maybe Craig happened to like Tweek, and that was why he was taking good care of him.

He's drunk, artard. He told himself stupidly. You're hopeless.

Tweek flushed heavily, nevertheless. His face was so hot, he thought he might've had a fever or something. Craig seemed to notice how bright red Tweek was too, and snickered. His blue eyes flickered to the table and narrowed on the still-full plate of food.

"You still didn't eat." He pointed out dumbly, flickering his eyes into Tweek's.

"S-sorry." Tweek whimpered, bracing for a hit.

"Don't worry, bout it. But ya need to eat sometime." Craig smiled and pressed his nose into the crook in Tweek's neck. "You're too cute to ruin with skipped meals." He slurred, pressing his lips to Tweek's neck.

Tweek's heart skipped a beat (or several) and he flushed an even deeper shade of scarlet, if possible. Every touch felt like an electric shock, but the good kind. Like the one that you get when you yank on a shock toy. He shook nervously as Craig nuzzled his nose into his neck. It was becoming harder and harder to admit that Craig was so drunk, he probably wouldn't even remember doing any of this. And even if he did, would Craig WANT to remember?

"It's late. I think I left those assholes at the bar round one." He murmured.

Tweek nodded, knowing that this meant Craig was going to retreat to his room and sleep. Tweek was still prepared to go an all-nighter. Even though there had been a severe lack of caffeine, he still had plenty of energy to suffice.

"Oh yeah, I totally forgot. There's a bathroom cross the hall. I'll figure that out, but till then, Imma sleep. Need to go potty?" He asked childishly, planting another kiss on Tweek's forehead.

Tweek nodded, moving out to use the restroom. While he was in the closed white room, he realized that he could easily escape while Craig was intoxicated. Maybe Craig wouldn't even notice.

But what if Tweek didn't even want to leave?

He had to admit to himself that he liked Craig, even if it was just a little bit. Craig seemed to have more tolerance of him than his parents ever did. Plus, Craig made Tweek's heart ache with warmth. Like a blissful pain, so to speak. Either way, Tweek liked it and didn't want any of it to stop. Once he was finished with his business, Tweek trotted back out into his supposed-prison and looked in. Craig was sprawled out on his bed, facefirst into the pillow. Tweek sighed, taking a seat on the floor, in between the desk and the bed. Shifting himself so he was comfortable, Tweek tried to ignore the freezing cold.

"Ay, get your skinny ass up here, Tweek." Craig groaned from on the bed. Tweek felt like melting when he heard his name come out of Craig's mouth. "I'm fucking cold!" He slurred.

Tweek complied, carefully getting on the bed and pressing himself to the wall opposite Craig. His green eyes stared blankly at the wall, determined not to close. Suddenly an arm was wrapped around him, and Tweek was scooped backwards into Craig's chest.

"Fuck, Tweek. You're warm, do you have a fever or some shit?" Craig slurred, leaning inwards to cover Tweek and simultaneously warm himself up.

Tweek shook his head. Closing his eyes, he slowly tried to match Craig's steady breathing. Having a spaz attack every once and awhile made that increasingly difficult, but Tweek honestly didn't care, as long as he could feel Craig behind him. After around an hour, Craig shifted.

"You're not asleep, are ya?" He murmured.

Tweek frowned and shook his head. "N-no."

"Why not?" Craig asked.

"I'm a-afraid." Tweek admitted. "When I'm asleep, a-anyone can j-just kill me then and t-there." He explained. "I don't f-feel safe." Tweek felt a trickle of tears go down his face. "Ever."

A hand expertly flipped him over so that he was facing the ebony haired boy. A pair of lips kissed his forehead softly. Craig stared at him with hazy eyes.

"You don' have to be scared. I'll be here to protect ya!" He promised, pulling Tweek into his thin chest. "Now go to sleep."

Tweek sighed and closed his eyes. No doubt he didn't know whether Craig would flip out or not when he woke up sober. Maybe he'd get beaten into the floor. Tweek felt a small tremor go trough his body. Maybe Craig would hurt him when he woke.

But as Tweek drifted off into a rare sleep, the thought was pushed to the back of his mind.


	6. The Y

**I DO NOT OWN SOUTH PARK**

_Author's Notes: _

_-Thanks for dealing with this story, guys. _

_-God damn, I edited this chapter like, four times before I found something I liked. You are So lucky. _

_-Review, Please... I mean, I really like them and they make me happy because I'm a shallow dork._

* * *

**Bonus Points:** _Who do you think Craig mistakes Tweek for? _

_Tweek, to the contrary of most viable beliefs, liked sleeping. _

In fact, sleeping could actually place in the top ten of the twitchy blonde's favorite things ever. Sure, going to sleep was a different thing altogether. And even when Tweek was able to crash, there was always a looming fear of murder exploding in his brain. But on those rare occurrences when he felt safe, Tweek actually quite enjoyed resting.

When the blonde was sleeping, safe and in blissful unconsciousness, he could be happy. No worries, no dreams, just black. Tweek didn't ever dream for some odd reason. Perhaps because his mind was so active during his extended waking hours, imagining anything and everything that could go wrong, when he was asleep the pure nothingness made up for it. Either way, Tweek felt like he deserved being happy at least once in awhile. He'd never tried anything to help him sleep; he was afraid that he'd overdose one day and die.

There's a moment in sleep when you begin to float back into consciousness. Where the loose connection between your soul and reality becomes taut, but still remains slack. That one moment when you realize you're awake, but don't fully register the transition from subconsciousness, to consciousness.

In that moment when he woke, he dumbly realized that Craig had his arm wrapped around him. He also realized that he had twisted around in the night so that his face was burrowed in Craig's warm chest. His breath had regulated itself to Craig's and Tweek felt safer than he ever had in his whole life. Like Craig could just whisk him away from everything, and he could live in this hazy wakefulness forever.

Tweek felt the mattress underneath him shift as Craig entered the same wakefulness. The blonde wasn't sure if Craig felt as serene as he did, but he sure hoped so. The feeling of Craig's warm fingertips brushing along his side made Tweek shiver in anxiety.

"What the _fuck_...-" Craig looked down at the small boy his fingers had ghosted over. For a second, he could have sworn Tweek was... _Nevermind_.

"C-Craig?" Tweek peeked his face up, large electric green eyes looking at Craig.

Craig patted himself down quickly to make sure he was fully clothed and didn't do anything regrettable with the blonde. "What happened." He demanded, pushing Tweek away harshly. "What did I do last night."

"Y-you came in r-really drunk." Tweek mumbled, shifting slightly to allow Craig access to hopping off the bed. "And y-you acted n-nice."

"I must have... Thought you were someone else." Craig ventured, becoming nauseous. "Whatever I happened to do, it didn't mean anything, okay?"

Tweek hoped he didn't look as shocked as he felt. In all reality, he shouldn't have been shocked in the first place. He was a hostage, after all. But it didn't help the gnawing pain in his stomach. The twitchy teenager absentmindedly tugged on his hair.

"Don't do that. It bugs me." Craig snapped, slapping Tweek's hand away.

"C-Craig?" Tweek knew he'd be crossing the line if he asked, but something yanked at his stomach, and made him feel rather sick. "Who did y-you think I w-was?"

"Who?" Craig narrowed his icy blue eyes. "None of your buisness." He growled.

Tweek whimpered at the sharp edge in Craig's voice. Who could he have been replaced by? Wait, no. He replaced THEM. The pit in his stomach grew with every second he glanced at Craig. He didn't feel safe anymore. He was back to square one.

"S-sorry." Tweek managed, nipping at his already destroyed hand.

Craig seemed lost in thought, and Tweek didn't even know if the noirette heard him. His eyes were glazed over, and he hunched so that he appeared at least two times less intimidating. Craig wrapped a hand around Tweek's shoulder and hoisted himself up.

"Get your coat on. We're leaving." Craig said robotically; as if his monotone voice could achieve even less emotion. The ebony haired teen stalked away, but Tweek suspected he was standing right by the door.

Tweek snatched his fluffy coat from the floor, pulling it on. Warmth flooded his skin, but he still felt unreasonably cold. Brushing off the momentary feeling of emptiness, Tweek trotted out the door. His suspicions had been correct, as Craig was waiting for him there.

"W-where are we going?" Tweek asked cautiously, as Craig snatched his wrist tightly (and rather painfully, at that).

"Boss had organized a negotiation with the Y." Craig explained, pulling them both out the door and shutting it forcefully.

"T-the Y?" Tweek echoed.

"Yeah. It's the gang that you had heard me and Austin fighting with." Craig settled them both in the car and started the engine.

Tweek was less afraid as he paid attention to Craig's voice. He shivered at the mention of the night two or so days prior, remembering about how he'd managed to get in this mess.

"You might've heard, but they'd been stealing land from us unfairly. Boss is trying to regain said land." Craig drove the vehicle down the familiar path, although it was brightly lit this time around.

"Why a-a-are y-you bringing m-me?" Tweek asked, taking in hyperventilated, shaky breaths.

"You're going to be our scapegoat."

* * *

Tweek felt a rush of nerves when he seen the crossing alleyways, gang members peering out from every shadow. The eyes followed him and Craig as they slunk around to a side, morphing with the shade as well.

The East 80 Cobras, Craig's gang, lay sprawled out in front of him. A few men hid behind trashbins and stray cardboard boxes. Some had been positioned on the roofs of small buildings, lying flat on the ground to avoid detection from the rival gang. Tweek recognized Stan immediately.

The raven haired teenager had taken to nothing more than the brick wall of a building, and the shadow it housed. He leaned against it loftily, as if he was just coming out for a break. In his singular arm, he held a handgun. Stan twirled it in his hand with careless efficiency, and Tweek hoped to god that it was on 'safety'. Deep blue eyes caught Tweek's green ones and Stan smirked. He slithered around the shadows, and Tweek noticed that his blue eyes seemed to glow in the semi-darkness. As Stan approached, Tweek couldn't help but notice that he resembled a cobra, stalking it's prey until the moment of attack.

"Hello there, babe." Stan cooed, wrapping his arm around Tweek's thin waist. Tweek couldn't help but feel flustered, and he let out a small mewl of surprise.

"Don't call him 'Babe', Marsh. It's making me nauseous." Craig said, his eyes narrowing.

"I'll call him whatever I feel like calling him." Stan protested, not breaking his gaze. "Right, _babe_?"

"Ngh... _Pressure_..." Tweek managed. His face was bright red and he felt like his knees were going to buckle any moment now. The gnawing in his stomach, however, failed to go away.

"Marsh, get off of him." Craig's jaw shifted from right to left, clicking his teeth together in annoyance.

"You're no fun, Craig." Stan sighed. "And like I told you like, seven hundred times, call me Stan."

"No. Where's Boss." Craig demanded.

"Oh, fatass is over there." Stan motioned over with his thumb. "You can go talk to 'im. I'll keep watch of your little boy toy."

"I decline your offer." Craig clicked his teeth together rapidly, and the noise became more and more noticeable to Tweek.

Stan snickered. "Don't worry, I won't break him. I _always_ take good care of my toys." He purred into Tweek's ear.

Tween jumped, his face ablaze. "Ngh." He squeaked. The teenager threw his hands into his hair, but thought better of it when Craig sent him a disapproving glare.

"Fine." Craig snarled. "Just don't go hurting him."

And Craig walked off, leaving Tweek with Stan. The blonde felt like a mouse, trapped and about to be eaten by a cobra. Which, in some manner, was correct. Stan smiled coyly, his cheeks pulled into a friendly grin. Tweek loosened his shoulders and tried to look away to hide his blush. He shouldn't haven't been blushing either way.

"I never did catch your name, did I?" Stan chuckled, firmly holding Tweek's shoulder with his one arm. Tweek smiled, remembering that had been exactly what Craig had said.

"It's T-Tweek." Tweek replied.

"Has Craig been keeping you nicely?" Stan asked. Tweek was surprised to hear the level of concern in the teenager's voice. He had thought that Stan had been in search for nothing more than to cure his libido.

"Y-yes..?" Tweek said.

"I would hope so. It must be strange for you to be hearing someone ask you if your captor is treating you alright." Stan sighed. "They sort of own you in a way, so shouldn't they treat you however they wish?"

"I... I d-don't know." Tweek looked at Stan, who was chewing on his thumbnail.

"No. The correct answer is no. Even if you are a hostage, that doesn't make you any less human. Just make sure he doesn't hurt you, and if he does, just talk to me." Stan looked at Tweek with deep sapphire eyes. A small, sheepish smile was prominent on his face.

"W-why are y-you acting nice t-to me? Did s-someone put you u-up to this?" Tweek mentally smacked himself for talking with the dialect of a middle-schooler. He was an adult now, and he had to learn to keep that to himself.

"No." Stan broke his thoughts. He pointed to Tweek's emerald eyes. "You just remind me of someone."

Tweek didn't bother asking who. He didn't know the person anyhow and for some odd reason, he didn't feel compelled to ask like he had with Craig. Suddenly, the two rival gangs stood up at once, alert and ready. It struck Tweek that these people weren't all pathetic misfits; they were as strong and prepared as a militia.

"It's time." Someone from across the imaginary border declared. "Drop your arms."

Tweek was sure that people were going to literally rip their arms off and throw them to the ground with their mouths. But off course that didn't happen. Tweek was still shocked when several weapons were discarded on the other side of the border; the same one the command had come from. Metallic sounds echoed throughout the alley as a variety of weapons ranging from machine guns to brass knuckles were thrown to the ground. Tweek even saw a collection of ninja stars and a katana glinting in the sunlight.

"You heard the man." Boss' gravely voice called out. "Drop 'em, Nyah?"

Weapons were dropped in a similar fashion. Tweek felt Stan shift as he dropped a handgun and two grenades.

_Single-handed weapons... _

"Jason Malk, Nyah?" Boss addressed the man who had moved to stand on the edge of his border.

"Yes. And you're Eric Cartman." Jason flicked a single strand of hair from his large forehead. Brown eyes glared forward, as if begging Catman to make the first move.

"Two of my newer recruits say you've been trespassing through Cobra territory." Boss accused, crossing his chubby arms.

"You're making up things; we've never crossed anyone's turf. We have more honor than that, unlike SOME gangs." Jason directed his gaze at the leader of the Cobra's. Tweek found it hard to believe that a gang member would have any honor whatsoever.

"Unless my recruits are mistaken, and I hope for their sake that they aren't, you are lying." Tweek shook. Craig had accused the Y of stealing land. If he was mistaken...

"They are. We decided that our land would cover the space from the KFC, to the Convenience Mart. If anything, we found YOUR recruits snooping around the Convenience Mart." Jason explained.

"That is _our_ rightful land." Boss snarled. "I've heard enough. Pick up your weapons."

Tweek shuddered and slunk further into the shadows, wishing he could phase through the brick walls. A rough arm shoved him out of the way and Stan stepped in front of him, determination shining in his blue eyes.

"You too." Jason barked. "Looks like we're finding out who has the land by blood."

Tweek stifled a scream and his among the shade. The two gangs had a standoff, silently deciding who shot first. Suddenly, an earsplitting crack rang out as the first bullet was shot. After the first shot, several more rang out. Tweek screamed, diving for cover.

A single shot sounded above the others, and a searing pain shot through Tweek's calf. The blonde flew into the ground, smashing against the cold concrete as unbearable agony coursed through his whole left leg. He blindly scrambled behind a metallic green dumpster and held his leg, as if he was trying to stop poison.

Tweek rocked back and forth, tears streaming down his face as black dots danced in his eyes. He leaned up against the trashbin and bit into his right knee to take his mind off of the fire-like pain in his left calf. Craig's voice was the last thing he heard before the pain became to much and he blacked out.

"_Tweek_!"


	7. Bullet

**I DO NOT OWN SOUTH PARK**

_Author's Notes:_

_-Holy Sweet Lawad, I finished this chapter!_

_-Major foreshadowing in this chapter. Won't tell you where, but it'll come up later in the story._

_-They actually kiss! Huzzah!_

_-Review, please. I haven't gotten any less shallow since last time._

* * *

_"You're not going anywhere near him_." Tweek frowned as he started to slip back into consciousness. His leg throbbed with pain.

"You can't stop me." Craig's voice said, hollow and wobbly.

"Just go away, Craig." The speaker said in a softer tone. "_Please_, just go away." He repeated. Tweek dully recognized Stan's voice.

Tweek's eyes fluttered open, and he flinched under the light of the afternoon. His leg was still annoyingly throbbing, but the pain had dulled until it was no more than burdening. He was lying on the cool concrete ground, body pressed to a brick building, where the snow was the thinnest. Something furry was settled under his leg, and Tweek realized he was probably bleeding all over the dead pelt of an animal or something.

"G-g-get it o-off!" Tweek yelped, panicking. His hands flew to the poor dismembered animal's fur (which was a terrifying shade of blue), and hurled it away from him.

Immediately after, a hazy dizziness fell over him and he crashed backwards onto the ground, his skull making a deafening thud. He groaned in pain, cringing. Wasn't snow supposed to be like, soft?

"Oh _shit_." Stan groaned. "He's conscious." Stan trotted over to Tweek and settled the blonde down, running his palm over Tweek's forehead soothingly. "We must've woken him arguing."

"So?" Craig snorted in contempt.

"So, it's gonna be seven times more painful for him when I remove the bullet." Stan rolled his eyes. The raven noticed his wool hat, the previously mentioned animal pelt, lying on the ground.

Stan grabbed the hat and re-applied it to Tweek's calf. Tweek took in a sharp breath, his eyes skewered shut. He felt something calloused and warm take his hand, and he tried to relax. The thing gripping his hand moved in circular movements, mollifying Tweek's tense figure.

"Tweek, I'm going to need you to relax. You got shot, okay? The entry was clean, and it didn't go to deep. I just need to look, nothing painful yet." Stan instructed. "I need to see if it hit anything important."

The pressure on Tweek's leg was lifted, and he felt a firm, gentle hand grab his calf. Tweek bit back a loud cry of pain when his left leg was twisted, Stan inspecting the wound carefully. After a few moments, Stan released his leg.

"It's alright. The bullet didn't go into any vital areas, so I think I can get it out without problem." Stan smiled, rubbing Tweek's uninjured leg.

"_T-t-think?_!" Tweek yelped, frantically looking at the raven. "C-Can't you j-j-just l-leave it b-be?"

"Not unless you want it to end up like my arm." Stan motioned over to his empty sleeve. "As much as I'd hate to ask, I need your help, Craig."

Craig nodded almost immediately, staying silent. Tweek had realized that it was Craig's hand running circles in his. Craig had a determined look on his face, his blue eyes shone, and his eyebrows were touching only barely. Stan replaced the hat to Tweek's leg, softly as a means of only keeping his blood from spilling.

"What." Craig demanded, although it sounded as if he was demanding an order rather than simply being annoyed.

"Get me a stick or something; anything Tweek can bite into." Stan ordered calmly.

Tweek panicked, shaking his head like he was having an epileptic seizure. "N-no! No sticks! G-germs and s-splinters! _Gah_!" He spluttered out.

Craig nodded, thinking for a moment before yanking off his aviator's hat and shoving it in Tweek's mouth like a gag. Tweek choked, but bit down on the fabric all the same. His jaw cranked shut like a vise, clamping down on the fabric as hard as he could. Stan nodded, pushing the hat in further and reminding Tweek to breathe out of his nose. The raven turned back to Craig, frowning.

"Okay, Craig. I need you to hold Tweek's jeans back and expose the leg better for me." He said promptly, staying calm and commanding.

Craig only shook his head in agreement, carefully yanking Tweek's jean pant up, and holding the edge area of his calf securely.

"Good. Now when I say go, apply pressure to Tweek's leg with this hat. Don't worry about hurting him; it'll be better for him in the long run." Stan flickered his eyes to Tweek's before using his singular hand to shove Tweek's head back into the ground.

"Where did you learn this, Marsh?" Craig asked wearily.

"You learn to make sure other people don't make the same mistakes you do. Quickly, too." Stan mumbled. Bringing his attention back to Tweek, he spoke up again. "This is gonna hurt, Tweek. A lot." He warned.

Tweek simply nodded, being unable to speak. Making sure he was out of Tweek's vision, as not to scare the teenager, he flipped out a pocket knife and quickly wiped it on his shirt. Craig winced at the sharp object, and sweat lines his face. He took a shaky breath, watching intently as Stan slowly dug the blade into Tweek's soft flesh.

Pain flared up in Tweek's leg, and he smashed his teeth into the hat harder. Tears started to stream down his face, and he tensed. '_Stop_!' He wanted to scream, but the knife only went in deeper. He screamed into the hat, eyes slamming shut.

"Relax, Tweekie." Stan muttered softly.

Tweek forced himself to relax, and to not worry about the blade digging in his left calf. He trembled, his screams reduced to small whimpers.

"Good, good." Stan smiled. In one swift movement, and with no warning, he drove the knife in. Twisting the knife at an angle, Stan ripped it out just as quickly.

"Now, Craig!"

Craig stumble with the hat, by managed to firmly press it to Tweek's wound. Blood soaked the wooly fabric, and Craig felt the moisture on his hands. He was hyperventilating now, shaking but somehow keeping his hands still. Craig screwed his eyes shut, and wrinkled up his nose.

By now, Tweek was sure that Craig's hat had been ruined, but he could care less. That _fucking hurt_!

"Got it!" Stan snatched the bloody bullet off the ground, smiling. "See, Babe? All better." (A/N: If you can't remember, Craig hates it when Stan calls Tweek 'Babe'.)

Tweek nodded, although his mind was on the intense pain in his leg.

"Alright, Craig. Quit imitating a bunny; you need to carry him." Stan chuckled lightly. Tweek looked up to verify Stan's accusation.

Craig did indeed look like a Peter Cottontail. His eyes were squeezed shut, and his nose was all scrunched up. The little tuft of hair on his head looked soft, albeit messy from wearing the hat. Tweek even let out a small giggle at how silly Craig looked. Craig's eye opened tentatively. He sighed heavily before reaching under Tweek's back and knees and carefully picking him up.

"Jesus Christ, kid." He shook his head and rocked Tweek into his chest, allowing Tweek's thin arms to wrap around his neck. "Might you explain why you're lighter than a twelve-year old girl?"

"I'm n-not lighter t-than a t-twelve year old g-girl." Tweek whispered, more to himself than to Craig.

"Right." Craig snorted. "You're lighter."

"Come on, Craig!" Stan called, already trotting away. "We need to get Tweek to your apartment!"

"Why my house?" Craig narrowed his icy eyes.

"Because I don't own sowing equipment." Stan said pointedly, smirking.

Tweek frowned. There was no way Craig, the gangster, had a sowing kit. But the way Craig blushed in embarrassment proved Stan right. Why would they need sowing equipment, anyways?

* * *

"Tweek, calm down!" Craig scolded to the writhing teen. A sewing needle was clutched inbetween his index and thumb.

"N-no! No more s-sharp things!" Tweek screeched, backing himself into a wall.

"Please, Tweek?" Craig asked. "I need to sew the wound shut. It'll only hurt for a second." He promised.

"Absolutely _not_!" Tweek yelled without stutter. "I can't stand pain! _Gah_!"

"I can distract you." Craig proposed. "I'll make the pain hurt less." He muttered. "I'll even let you pick the color."

Tweek sniffed. "R-really?" He asked childishly.

"Really." Craig nodded. He proceeded to pull out seven colorful spools of thread; red, yellow, blue, green, purple, pink, and white. Tweek silently pointed to the blue one, hands shaking.

"Okay, Tweek. Hold your breath; this might pinch." Craig expertly threaded the needle, and started to work.

Tweek whimpered heavily as the needle pierced his already abused skin. The needle threaded his skin, sewing it together. Soon, his leg was stitched three times with a pretty blue string.

"Where w-was that d-distraction tactic you p-p-promised?" Tweek murmured, hurt.

And suddenly, the world melted away. Tweek felt a heat rise in his head, and he was sure he was going to black out any second. That or throw up. Slowly, Tweek's eyelids drooped.

Cause you're supposed to close your eyes when someone kisses you, right?


	8. Heartbreak Hotel

**I DO NOT OWN SOUTH PARK**

_Author's Notes: _

_-I never seen Craig as a Steampunk, Metal fan. I dunno, in my head, Craig's the sort of old timey dork that likes black-and-white movies and old music._

_-Sorry it took forever to get this done. I was on Vacation at Orlando and OH MY LAWDY, Universal is the coolest place ever. _

_-Small but necessary filler chapter. _

_-Half of you skip past the author's notes anyhow, so I won't even ask for you to review. _

_-Review please. (OH MY, HOW COULD THAT HAVE SLIPPED OUT?!)_

* * *

_Tweek didn't remember passing out for a second time._ All he remembered was that warm, fluffy feeling inside the pit of his stomach. And the notation that he was bound to puke, but he had shoved that off. Hopefully.

Tweek felt like he'd had a whole container of spiked coffee as he awoke. His emerald eyes opened groggily, and much to Tweek's expense as afternoon light flowed in the room relentlessly. His leg throbbed with a dull pain. Wincing, Tweek twisted around to gather his surroundings.

It was a small, chilly room, with a single bedside table and a dusty closet. Gun cases littered a desktop, and a sowing kit lay on top of them. In the corner of the room, a -believe it or not- gramophone played out an Elvis Presley song. Since when did gangsters have sowing kits and '_Heartbreak Hotel'_ stowed in plain sight around their quarters?

Never. That's when.

At least not in all those History Channel documentaries and News Reports. Not in those Blockbuster movies, either.

Tweek was almost positive that he had died due to blood loss, and this was the waiting room to be judged on whether or not he'd go to heaven. Shifting, Tweek noticed that he was on a slightly uncomfortable mattress. Flannel blankets had been thrown over him, and his leg was propped up on a pillow. Tweek frowned. He hadn't exactly remembered the part in _The Godfather _where the mafia members saved their hostages.

_Duh_. His mind told him. _They can't kill you while you're still on the market, dumbass. Hey, maybe you'll be sold to a nice pimp or something! You sorta look like a girl from the right angle..._

Tweek flinched and shoved that part of his mind away. The last thing he needed to hear was how much he resembled a prostitute. He ran his hands through his hair, which was increasingly difficult due to the mangled blonde mane of his.

"You're awake." Craig's voice jolted Tweek out of his thoughts.

The gang member stood in the doorway, frowning as if he'd been disappointed that Tweek woke up. Tweek scowled. There was something he was forgetting. Something that had to do with that warm fluffiness that he'd felt.

"People usually don't black out when other people kiss them." Oh. So that was it.

"S-sorry." Was all Tweek could manage.

"S'fine." Craig nodded, turning around to leave the room again. Tweek felt a small, foreign twinge at the pit of his stomach.

"Is S-Stan still here?" Tweek whispered so softly, he was amazed Craig heard him.

"He left." The ebony-haired teenager said curtly. "Are you hungry?" He changed the subject quickly.

"N-no." Tweek mumbled, biting his lower lip.

"Bullshit." Craig's eyebrows knit together. "You haven't eaten anything for nearly two days and you aren't hungry." He stated it with a tart sense of sarcasm.

Tweek shook his head slowly, afraid any quick motion would give him a head rush. Craig frowned even more. The ebony haired teenager turned on his heel and tromped over to where Tweek was laying. In one fluid movement, his thin, calloused hands found the hem of Tweek's loose gray shirt and yanked it upwards. The absence of fabric revealed just how thin Tweek really was.

The blonde's stomach was concave, and his spine showed out of his back prominently. Craig was almost afraid that if Tweek bent over, the bone and cartilage holding his spinal chord together would snap in half. Each rib protruded from Tweek's chest, jutting out sharply. Craig could literally see Tweek's heart beating. The pulse was quick and unsteady, not at all anything a healthy teenager should have. Although, Tweek wasn't exactly a healthy teenager. Craig frowned and placed his palm to Tweek's heartbeat, shuddering at how well he could feel it through the thin barrier of skin.

Tweek shivered and protested to the contact, whining as Craig applied pressure to his chest. He had half a mind to shove Craig away, but he didn't, afraid it would anger him.

"Mind telling me why you're so thin?" Craig lifted his striking eyes to Tweek's, composed as if he'd been talking to a frightened animal.

"I'm f-f-fine." Tweek stuttered, trying to meekly cover his bare chest with his shirt.

"_Fine_." Craig snorted in minor contempt. "You're malnourished to the point where I can see your diaphragm moving, and you say you're _fine_."

The twitchy blonde squeaked as Craig traced his collarbone with his finger. Tweek pushed Craig's hand away this time, wide-eyed. "I'm f-fine. P-promise." He mumbled.

"Tell me; how many times have you said that?" Craig brought his finger to Tweek's chin and tipped the blonde's head upwards, so their eyes met.

Tweek looked away shyly. "T-twice." When Craig didn't speak up, Tweek took it as a pause for him to explain. "O-Once to m-my p-parents." He muttered, ashamed that tears were already starting to form in his eyes. "And o-once t-to you."

Craig grimaced, and his hands slowly made their way around Tweek's way-too-thin waist. Without thinking, he tugged the small boy into a hug. Tweek tentatively wrapped his arms around Craig, nerves tugging at his stomach.

"I never want you to ever have to say that again." Craig whispered, his tone soft and gentle. "Unless you mean it."

Tweek dully nodded, lip trembling. The gangster pulled back and Tweek shivered from the absence of warmth. Looking the scrawny boy over once more, Craig sighed heavily.

"Why are you so thin?" He asked once more. "Are you-"

"N-no." Tweek squeezed his eyes shut. "Not a-anorexic. I d-d-don't h-have eating d-disorders." He whispered.

"Then what?" Craig asked calmly, his fingers brushing Tweek's protruding jawline.

Tweek took in a breath, shaking visibly. "I am a-afraid..." He began slowly, trying hard not to burst into a fit of sobs. "Of eating."

Tweek lost it. Wet tears escaped his green eyes, and trailed down his face. How _pathetic_ he was that he couldn't even eat normally. Sobs racked his frail body, and his throat choked with them. He felt like a freak. The kind that was sold to circuses where people threw peanuts at and jeered at them. Who in the world but him would be _afraid_ of food?

In a matter of seconds, Tweek was pulled into Craig. A strong pair of arms wrapped around him, protecting him from all the jeers and the thrown edible projectiles. Craig rocked back and forth gently, whispering generic soothing things like a mother would her child.

"Don't worry; I'll protect you." Craig murmured, carefully plucking Tweek off the bedspread.

Tweek was held bridal style, as not to agitate his leg. Craig carried him down the hall, eyes directed towards what Tweek presumed was the kitchen. The twitchy teenager was settled down on a plastic chair. Craig snatched something off the countertop and placed it in front of Tweek. The ebony haired gang member sat across Tweek drumming his knuckles on the tabletop. A green apple sat under Tweek's nose; it looked clean enough, but what if it was disease ridden?

"Eat." Craig ordered sharply, nudging the apple closer to Tweek.

Tweek slowly shook his head. "N-not hungry." He whimpered.

"Please? For me?" Craig looked up, his eyes connecting with the ones across him.

Tweek scrunched up his nose before gingerly picking up the apple and taking a hurried bite out of the side. Sour juice filled Tweek's mouth and he visibly cringed. The boy chewed slowly before swallowing the food. It slid down his throat with ease.

"Good." Craig gave him the smallest hint of a smile. "Take another bite."

Tweek hesitated before nodding and returning the small grin. "O-okay."

"Tweek?" Craig lifted his head off of his hands from where he was observing the boy take small nips out of his apple.

Tweek looked up, as if he'd done something wrong and had somehow angered Craig. "Y-yeah?" He asked timidly.

"Do you want anything else?" Craig asked. If he could get Tweek to finally eat, he'd feel much better himself. Tweek mumbled something incoherent.

"What? I didn't catch that." He pressed, nudging his hand forward to draw circles on Tweek's elbow. Tweek tensed due to the contact, but didn't yank his arm away.

"Coffee." Tweek said, smiling.


	9. Coffee and Tacos

**I DO NOT OWN SOUTH PARK**

_Author's Notes:_

_-Het couple time! Seriously, guys. I'm not ALL rainbows and fruitloops. Just mostly._

_-I can't believe I couldn't finish this sooner. Usually ideas pop right into my head when I have ONE WHOLE DAY OF ABSOLUTE NOTHING. _

_-I was getting into an argument with my Beatles-obsessed friend. To be fair, I did sort of start it when I said John Lennon and Paul McCartney would be cute together as a gay couple. She ended up chewing me out for taking a 'stupid' cartoon (South Park) so seriously. So here I say; __**VIVA LA SOUTH PARK SLASH!**_

_-Review, please._

* * *

_"Do I have to go out?" Tweek whispered, _fixing on his grey shirt.

"Yes." Craig replied sharply, fixing his clean blue jacket. "And you have to wear something nicer than that. Clyde isn't the most respectful man, but like hell if he makes fun of my apparel again." The elder boy scanned his cluttered closet before yanking out a white dress shirt.

He loftily tossed it to Tweek, instructing the boy to put it on. Craig turned around, fishing out a black jacket as well and tossing that to Tweek, too. The boy's face grew into a whining pout before he slunk into the shirt and jacket. Both were far too large, Tweek digressed. Craig scoffed, throwing Tweek some charcoal black jeans. Tweek slithered off the bed until he was out of Craig's view before changing his pants.

"Prude." Craig snorted indignantly.

"S-sorry."

"No need. Here, you might need this." Craig passed Tweek a belt.

Tweek fiddled with the belt before finally managing to fix the material around his waist and through the belt loops. Yanking it taut, Tweek stood up, his shaky hands working on his overcoat. Thankfully, there were only three buttons, which Tweek managed to hole up with only some difficulty. Slowly, Tweek began to realize that for the last minute or so, Craig had been simply staring at him struggle with his coat buttons. Tweek self-consciously looked away, flushing.

"D-do I look o-okay?" Tweek murmured, twisting so he could see the back of his shirt.

"You look wonderful." Craig said in the softest tone Tweek had ever imagined hearing from the apathetic gangster.

Tweek glowed bright red, and fiddled with the hem of his shirt. "T-thank you." He whispered, skittering over to Craig.

"Do you need anything before we go out?" Craig asked sweetly, using Tweek's hand as assistance to pull himself upright.

"N-no." Tweek smiled, but the grin slowly fell. "But why a-are you being so n-n-nice to me? I'm not _complaining_, but..."

Craig's brow furrowed, the creases in his forehead getting deeper. His eyes stared at Tweek with an off-putting intensity. He finally twisted his head to the side before frowning. "I don't know." He admitted.

Tweek nodded, slightly disheartened. He thought he'd felt something in the gangster. Perhaps Craig was only being so nice to him because, like he had said when they first met, "_Unlike some people, I have morals". _

Craig snapped Tweek back into reality, dragging the blonde out by his waist. The two settled in the car and Craig drove off, satisfied that Tweek wasn't hyperventilating. The little blonde truly did look rather charming when he wasn't yanking out clumps of his golden hair. Instead, Tweek faced forward calmly as possible with the impending doom of a bound-to-happen car crash. His fingers knotted together and detangled over and over again.

"We're here." Craig announced once his car pulled up to a small residential house.

The place was surprisingly non-meanecing. It was a whitewashed house with a chain link fence. A thatched room was on top, the crisscrossing material looking quaint on the small place. Craig hopped out of his pickup truck, and trotted along to the side to get Tweek out of his passenger seat. Tweek stumbled out, tripping on a stray stone. Craig lead him to the wooden door, and the elder boy knocked.

"Craig!" A cheerful man grinned wildly. Brown, shaggy hair draped down his forehead, almost covering his eyebrows. Mocha colored eyes sparkled with a sort of childish insight that Tweek was drawn to. The man was slightly hefty, but not at all fat. He munched absentmindedly on a burrito. "And Craig's new labor slave!"

Tweek flinched, horrified. He shied away from both Craig and his friend, wide eyes staring at both of them.

"Just kiddin' brah!" The man Tweek supposed was Clyde said.

"That's not funny, douche." Craig snapped, whacking his friend in the back of the head. Tweek detected a hidden smile in Craig's words, however. "How's the bitch?"

"Hey! Don't call my wife a bitch, you bitch!" Clyde pouted, his eyes flickering to Tweek. "So you finally got your head out of the depressing poetry and sad 80's music and found someone, I see!" He wolfishly grinned.

"No." Craig flipped his friend off nonchalantly. "He's just a... Ah- hostage, if you will. I'm sort of holding him for ransom."

"I'll buy him off of you." Clyde snorted and chuckled. Tweek shivered at the thought of having to be a slave boy to this guy.

"No deal." Craig retorted, stepping in the house. Tweek followed, his hand absentmindedly finding the coat tails of Craig's jacket.

Craig halted to a stop, and Tweek unceremoniously rammed into the tall man. He looked up to see why his captor had stopped.

A voluptuous lady stood in front of them, her shirt to low and her skirt to high. Frizzy blonde hair drooped off her head, curling nicely around her shoulders. Stormy gray eyes glinted with the childish trait that matched her alleged husband's. Her eyes flickered to Tweek and she smirked.

"Awe, look at this little cutie!" She gushed, reaching forward to ruffle Tweek's messy lion's mane of hair.

Tweek could have sworn that Craig literally snarled when she started feeling around Tweek's too-thin frame. "He needs to eat; have you given him food lately, Craig?" She frowned, prodding around the boy's skinny abdomen.

Craig nodded. "I have, for your information, BeBe. He's just not comfortable with eating." Craig swiftly yanked Tweek back to his side.

BeBe shrugged, her eyes narrowing. "Do you want anything to eat, sweetie?" She said in a maternal voice.

Tweek had been confused for a split second. The tone BeBe used was quite scantly used with him, as his mother was usually to hooked up with her coffee to comfort him so. Tweek suddenly felt like a child all over again, his mother reading him cool-ass stories about Peter Pan kicking butt in Neverland. He stood up a bit straighter, so that he became eye-level with the top of her head.

"N-no thank y-you." He whispered kindly, "I'm n-not that hungry." He let out a sheepish smile.

"You're kidding." BeBe snorted in disbelief.

"That's what I told him." Craig sighed, his arm wrapping around Tweek. "But he's intent on being a skinny little bastard."

"Craig, that's _rude_." BeBe scolded. She turned her attention back to Tweek. "But you really should have something; I insist."

"We have the remains of our Taco Bell blowout in the fridge!" Clyde called from what Tweek assumed was the kitchen.

"Dammit, Clyde! I need to tell you two about our problem with the Y!" Craig snapped out, his monotone voice echoing off the plaster walls.

"We can discuss it over dinner!" Was Clyde's cheeky response. "I'll get the Taco Bell."

In fifteen minutes flat, the couple had fixed up a table with a taco pyramid in the center. BeBe fetched Clyde and Craig some beers. Tweek eyed the can of Bud Light suspiciously.

"D'ya want something else, hon?" BeBe asked, her hand already clasping around the aluminum rim.

Tweek nodded slowly, "D-do y-y-you have coffee? I mean, if t-that's alright." He fiddled with his thumbs, the digits wrestling each other.

"Coffee and tacos?" Clyde piped up cheerily. The positive vibe that the kid showed off looked like it was positively sickening Craig. "I _gotta_ try that! I want some too, Babe!" He said like he was a four year old asking for desert.

BeBe smirked, going into the kitchen and returning only moments later with two cups of coffee. She settled one on Clyde's side of the table, and one on Tweek's. Tweek hurriedly took a generous sip and sighed as the warm liquid slid down his throat.

"Now can we please get onto business?" Craig groaned, yanking at his cuffs in frustration.

"Course!" Clyde smiled. His smile faded slowly and he took a bite out of his taco before chewing thoughtfully and speaking again. "So what happened?"

Craig shook his head mournfully and Tweek hadn't even noticed that he had taken a bite of his taco. "It was bad." Craig whispered, loud enough for everyone to hear. "Dogpoo, and Austin are in medical care; and three of Malk's goons are down, by my count. Tweek got a bullet in the leg as well."

Tweek winced and rubbed the sown together flesh underneath the fabric of his pant leg. The throbbing pain had died down as to where he could walk without difficulty, but it still was enough for him to wince with every step. BeBe had instantly started to hug him and pelt him with saying similar to, "The poor thing!" And "Are you alright?". Tweek admitted that it felt nice to have someone fret over him like this.

"F-fine." Tweek smiled, slowly pushing BeBe away from him. "Thanks f-for asking, t-though." He added quickly.

Craig made a throat-clearing noise and attention was drawn back to the noirette. "Apparently, Malk's cronies are going to bring out the big guns. They've apparently mapped out locations of our bases and safehouses. The main base is already swarming with guards; I'm sure that's safe. But you guys should be wary." Craig explained, his eyes darting behind him momentarily.

"They're in your gang, too?" Tweak asked, twitching. Clyde and BeBe didn't seem any different than any regular family, and their manners were charming, albeit childish. It was hard to imagine Clyde coldly staring into the eyes of another before planting a bullet in their head.

Clyde chuckled. "Yeah, man." He smirked. "I am, at least. BeBe isn't in it due to Boss's strict, sexist, '_no-chicks_' policy. S'alright, though. She's still pretty sharp with a gun." Clyde twisted around to meet BeBe's gaze. "Told ya I was to adorable for anyone to suspect anything."

"Shut up." BeBe chuffed, although she was clearly smiling.

"I'm sure we're okay. They probably used Google maps or something to find us." Clyde joked weakly.

Craig shrugged. "I hope so." He muttered. "The last thing I need is for them to throw Molotov's at my place."

"What are t-those?" Tweek chirped nervously.

Without looking up, BeBe answered. "Basically throwable fire bombs." She explained, taking a drink of her Diet Coke.

Tweek shuddered. That definitely wasn't a good thing. He imagined Craig's house engulfed in flames.

"Well, are we gonna do anything about it?" Clyde asked, tapping his index finger impatiently.

Craig nodded solemnly. "I talked with Boss, and we're meeting up at the base in three days time to discuss our plan of action."

"We should do something now." Clyde barked. "I can't stand Boss's time biding. I don't care if it makes everything more suspenseful; it's wasteful of time."

"Wow, Clyde." Craig smirked. "I didn't know you had the ability to say something so educated."

"Shut up, bastard." Clyde retorted. "I say we do something. _Tonight_."

"What?" Craig yelled angrily. "Are you insane, Clyde?"

Clyde shook his index finger. "No. They wouldn't be expecting anything. They know of Boss's stupid suspense quirk, and they're probably expecting us to help the wounded first. It's genius."

"But what about Tweek?" Craig snarled. "He can't shoot; fuck, he can barely walk at the time being. He can't stay here alone and properly defend himself say something happen." Tweek frowned. Why did he have to be so useless right now?

"BeBe will stay with him." Clyde declared.

"You're saying we are going to infiltrate the base with a mere two amateur shooters?" Craig raised his eyebrow.

"That's the glory of it!" Clyde threw up his arms. "Boss is known for power in numbers; they won't even know what hit them when only two shooters take down their whole base!"

Craig contemplated this for a moment. Tweek wanted to scream protests; he surely wouldn't survive that! And he didn't know what he'd do without the gang member, as pathetic as it may be. But not such protests came out of his mouth, and Craig had already agreed to go with Clyde. BeBe nodded calmly, and told them both that they should leave as soon as possible.

Clyde had already finished his food, and so had Craig. So they decided that they'd leave immediately. Craig pulled out a handgun from his coat like magic, and Clyde raced into his room to get his sub-machine gun. BeBe smiled weakly, and kissed Clyde sharply, their lips clashing together. Clyde pulled back gently, smiling.

"See you later tonight." He promised, patting her shoulder twice. "And don't worry; I'm too adorable to kill."

BeBe grinned and playfully smacked him. "Stay alive, dumbass."

Tweek slowly inched over to Craig, who had been looking at Clyde and BeBe somewhat sadly. He tapped Craig's chest, to which the noirette turned his head to look at his so called captive. "You'll come b-back?" Tweek asked, his voice shaky.

Craig pressed his lips to Tweek's before he had time to think about it. He sure hoped Tweek wouldn't pass out this time. Tweek didn't, tangling his bony hands under Craig's hat and into the messy ebony hair. He stepped back, red as a beet and a nervous, stuttering mess.

"Of course." Craig promised. "Once they see this badass, they'll be quivering in their shoes." With one last flip-off, Craig and Clyde exited into the black of night.


	10. A Call From Yours Truly

**I DO NOT OWN SOUTH PARK**

_Author's Notes:_

_-Sorry for not updating... But it's been really nice out for the last week or so and I've been I actually sort of have a life. _

_-Zeerrrrgggg I am dying trying to write this. It's as tough as trying to get the aviators hat of Craig's head._

* * *

_Tweek sat on his chair, which he had moved _(with some difficulty) to the door. He checked the clock, which read 2:11. BeBe had left, gone to bed at around 1:00. A clock ticked, an annoying click-click sound reverberating around the room. Tweek picked at his destroyed hands, peeling off bits of skin and dried scabs. The blonde chewed on his nails dutifully, automatically biting them down to stubs.

He wondered briefly if his parents were worried. They always seemed more preoccupied with business and coffee than him, so perhaps not. Perhaps they were just sitting on the couch, curled up with a blanket and a bag of popcorn watching the nightly news. Perhaps when someone asked them where their son was, when he failed to arrive at work, they would give blank stares and say, "Who?" But he pushed all those thoughts out of his mind. His parents loved him; even if it was sort of a mutual agreement rather than a sign up. They'd try and take him home.

Home. He'd go back home, where it was safe. He'd be able to wake up, and return to his routine. Maybe he'd get Cheddar crackers for lunchtime, or maybe a bag of fruit snacks for at work. He'd be safe and sound. Where the underpants gnomes roamed freely and his parents were just a door away, listening with disinterest as their eighteen year old son screamed bloody murder. Maybe he didn't want to go home.

Tweek almost didn't hear the door right next to him burst open as Craig and Clyde tumbled in. Craig had scratches going along his jawline and cheek, and a deep cut dangerously close to his left eye. He stared forward with a steely glare and growled. Clyde looked almost opposite, with bruises all around his arms and a shiner on his right eye. He smirked goofily, flashing a smile once he caught Tweek's eye.

"You're still up? Woah, dude." Clyde laughed hoarsely, collapsing on the ground and spreading out his arms and legs. "God damn, this is like, the most comfortable carpet ever."

Craig shifted awkwardly, "Didn't BeBe show you to the guest room?" He asked, gnashing his jaws together. His icy eyes looked down at the ground.

"She d-did." Tweek confirmed. "B-But I d-didn't wanna sleep. I w-was too worried." He admitted, flinching when Craig ran his fingertips behind his ear. Tweek pushed Craig's hand away timidly. "Y-you're cut." He whispered, standing up so he could inspect Craig's cheek.

"I'm fine, Tweek." Craig snorted. "Really." He smiled, however wincing when Tweek traced the cut with his fingertips.

Tweek frowned deeply, stepping over Clyde's passed out body and retrieving a washrag from the sink and soaking it. He wrung the cloth out shakily, thin, torn up hands working as fast as possible. He walked back into the main room, pressing the rag into Craig's hands.

"Clean y-your cuts, man. T-they're g-gonna get infected." He ordered sharply, crossing his arms.

Craig chuckled. "What, you're not gonna do it?" He asked coyly, smirking.

Tweek flushed bright red, and he jolted. "Um... S-Sure..." He whispered meekly, taking the rag and dabbing at Craig's cuts. The elder teenager visibly cringed as Tweek cleaned away the blood. Tweek pulled the rag away, nervously gnawing on his lower lip.

"Come on." Craig stated blankly. "We got to get Clyde to his bed. If he wakes up like this, he'll complain all day about a sore neck." The ebony-haired gangster hefted the heavy boy up, carrying him down the long corridor and turning into the far right room. He set Clyde down eagerly on the double bed.

Craig turned and exited, smirking at his best friend, who had been out like a light. Tweek was still in the main room, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot.

"Hey, Tweek." Craig said monotonously.

"Y-yes? D-did I do something w-wrong? S-sorry!" He squeaked rapidly, tugging on his hair.

"No." Craig smirked. "C'mere, the guest room is this way."

Tweek shuddered. "N-no." He whimpered. "It's okay. I-I'll sleep on the c-couch."

"Don't worry." Craig smiled smally. His ebony hair peeked out of the corners of his hat. He ushered Tweek into the spare bedroom and slowly settled the blonde into the bed. The ebony haired teenager lay on the mattress himself, yawning. He wrapped an arm around Tweek out of sheer habit.

"Um, Craig?" Tweek whimpered, shivering at the boy's touch.

"Yes?" Craig asked calmly.

"W-what happened? D-did you get what you w-wanted?" Tweek twisted around so that he was face-to-face with Craig. The elder frowned.

"No." Craig said simply. "In fact, Malk sort of had everyone on duty today. It was tough to get within thirty yards of the place." He frowned.

"O-oh."

Tweek sighed, letting Craig pull him into his chest. Craig absentmindedly stroked his hair, eyes still open. "Tweek?" The ebony haired boy rested his chin on top of Tweek's head. "I want you to sleep tonight, okay?"

Tweek nodded, unsure of if he'd be able to do so. The blonde closed his eyes and focused on the black spots that danced in them. Eventually, sleep over washed him and blackness edged his vision.

* * *

Tweek awoke to a frying pan and wooden spoon slamming against each other. He screamed and thrashed around, writhing. A strong hand gripped his upper arm, and Tweek struggled to get away.

"Tweek! Fuck, calm down, spaz!" Craig yelled, holding his arm up to protect himself.

Tweek halted, eyes wide and hyperventilating. Once he came into realization, he screeched. "Oh m-my god, I'm so s-sorry!" Tweek fell into a fit of apologies.

"S'okay." Craig chuffed. "I'll live."

"Morning, lovebirds!" Clyde cheered. He swiped at his brown hair and grinned wildly. He knelt down and pet Tweek on the head before speaking up again. "Didn't do anything fishy last night, eh?"

Craig growled, his face drawn into a glare. "No." He spat.

"Whatever!" Clyde yelled, throwing his hands into the air. "Don't include me on your sexcapades; see if I care!" He turned on one heel and stormed away.

Tweek squeaked, face tinting a deep red. He slowly ambled off the mattress, feeling drowsy still. That was not a common feeling for Tweek Tweak. Craig adjusted his jacket and hat, fixing out the crinkles and folds.

"Come on, Tweek." He gestured with his hand. "BeBe makes awesome breakfast." With that, the ebony haired gangster walked out the door. Tweek trailed behind him, sniffing.

Scents of several breakfast foods flooded Tweek's senses. He eagerly followed Craig to the dining hall, where BeBe was handing Clyde a strip of uncooked bacon. Clyde pouted, placing it in a pan and letting it cook.

"I don't see why you do this to me." He stuck out his bottom lip.

"Aw, come on, sugar." She chuckled. "You're too fun to tease."

"Am not." Clyde snobbed, flipping the bacon. He watched the meat sizzle with a slightly agitated frown.

BeBe turned around and spotted Craig, smiling deviously. She snatched a piece of cooked, floppy bacon and handed it to Craig flauntingly. "Here you go. You get the good bacon, Craig." She said in a low tone.

Clyde leg out a yell of frustration. "BeBe!" He whined. "I wanted the floppy piece!"

"Too bad, hon." She retorted, snatching the fork from Clyde and flipping the burning meat. "Keep this up and he'll get the unburnt sausage patties, too."

Clyde sulked, returning to his cooking. Tweek snorted in amusement. BeBe noticed Tweek and grinned widely, dragging him into a brief hug and passing him a piece of sausage. "Sorry Clyde." She laughed. "Guests get first picks."

Tweek took a tiny bite out of the sausage. He noticed Craig staring at him with interest, so he took another, slightly larger portion.

_Don't think of the food borne illnesses. Don't think of the pink slime they probably used to make this so they could control our minds. Don't think of how this probably sponsors the underpants gnomes._ He thought in a mantra like fashion, chewing the food more than needed before swallowing.

Tweek felt Craig's arm leading him to the table and sit him down on one of the chairs. The other chairs filled in as the others sat down with their food as well. Clyde gnawed on a piece of buttered toast eagerly, devouring it. Craig slapped his friend behind the head, despite wolfing down his food in a similar manner.

The table cleared at an alarming rate, mostly because Clyde had mentally challenged Craig to an eating contest and like hell if he was going to lose. Clyde had managed to eat seven pieces of toast, thirteen strips of bacon, one egg, and a sausage patty. BeBe had abruptly called him a pig, and smacked him upside the head before clearing the table.

"Thanks for the breakfast, BeBe." Craig said politely. "Now we've probably gotta go."

"Yeah, okay." BeBe replied mundanely, to busy trying to yank away a half-full glass of orange juice from Clyde to speak.

Craig snagged Tweek out the door and got in the car. Starting the car up, he watched Tweek struggle with his seatbelt out of his peripheral vision.

"Here." Craig said simply, fixing the belt in place. Seconds later, a tune dinged out. Craig cursed under his breath before yanking out his cellphone and pressing it to his ear.

"Hello? I'm hanging up. You have exactly twenty seconds, Marsh. What? Fine. I'll be there tonight. Yeah, I know. Bye."

Tweek looked at Craig, confused. "W-Who w-was it?"

"It was Marsh." Craig said, miffed. "Apparently, we got an offer."

"For w-what? If that's o-okay for m-me to a-ask." Tweek toyed with his thumbs anxiously. The previous night had been horrid enough with him worrying.

"For you."


	11. You're Growing Up

**I DO NOT OWN SOUTH PARK**

_Author's Notes:_

_-Wow. I did not mean to make such a long hiatus, but I think I dug myself into a metaphorical hole._

_-I want to warn you, I am sort of slipping in and out of sleep here at two in the morning. I'm falling asleep in the middle of sentences. So, in the morning, I'll probably web revolted with this chapter as well as revise the shit out of it._

_-Short chapter; l said, I'm falling asleep here._

* * *

**Bonus Question; What do you think Craig's mental complex is?**

_"F-for me?" Tweek choked out weakly,_ eyes wide and hands shaking. He'd thought that the pressure of choosing one of the crossroads wouldn't be until later. He thought he'd had more path to walk.

"Mm." Craig only nodded. His eyes appeared to be staring elsewhere, as if contemplating some serious thought.

"Who w-was it from?" Tweek gnawed at his thumbs. The torn flesh sent shots of pain into his hand, which he shrugged off effortlessly.

"Who do you suppose? Your parents." The noirette muttered quietly. "We're meeting in the alleyway next to the dairy deli."

Tweek sighed, at a loss for words. Thoughts jumbled in his already scrambled head, bouncing around and making his brain sore. The blonde rested his head into the door, thankful for the cold weather that frosted the windows. Blank and baseless paranoid thoughts roamed his mind, distracting him from the problem at hand.

The ethical and logical thing to do would obviously chose his home, wouldn't it? His parents raised him; gave him a roof and food. They loved him. The choice shouldn't be difficult at all. Tweek should just save himself the trouble. But still, at the same time, he found himself second guessing.

What if he stayed with Craig? Why would it be so horrible to have actual relations for once?

But then he realized how wishful thinking that must have been. This wasn't some stupid story. Tweek never believed in destiny; the thought that your whole life was planned out from the start was simply absurd. If that was true than why would he worry all the time? It made too little sense.

To Tweek, life was like a constant dirt path. Sometimes it was rough, sometimes it was smooth. The problems in life were simply crossroads.

This was the toughest pair of crossroads ever.

Tweek jolted out of his thoughts as he felt the truck come to a heavy halt. With fumbling fingers, he pulled off his seatbelt and stepped out of the door. Craig led him inside the apartment calmly, silent and stoic.

Once inside, Craig shut the door and beckoned Tweek to follow him. With a small push, he nudged the blonde into the spare room.

"Are you going to stay?" Craig asked, the question flattening out with the monotone.

"I d-don't know." Tweek admitted, feeling guilt pile in his chest. How could he not know? It was a choice between his parents, and a gangster. "I'm s-so confused." He murmured.

Craig stepped forward, cornering the blonde so that Tweek's shoulder blades pressed into the drywall. He placed his hands on either side of the shaking boy, expression never changing. The noirette closed the space between them, lips connecting only briefly before Tweek placed his thin hands on Craig's chest and shoved the elder away. The gangster stumbled backwards, not expecting the bold action or the force behind it.

"I s-said I was confused!" Tweek hissed, his eyebrows scrunching together.

"You're not leaving, are you?" Craig challenged. His voice wobbled with a bit of desperation Tweek couldn't grasp.

"I don't k-know!" Tweek whimpered, sinking down to place his head in his hands.

Craig spluttered out something incomprehensible before thinking better of it and retreating from the room, closing and locking the door. With a silent groan, Tweek yanked hard on his hair.

* * *

Stan waited patiently by the dairy deli, rapping his fingers across his arm. Biting his lower lip, Stan waited for either car, Craig's or the Tweaks, to arrive. Seldom he could just wait and lay low. He didn't even have to arrive, but he wanted to see the outcome of this confrontation. Perhaps something interesting would come of it. Part of him wanted to just stay home and watch the Canadian channel. Most of him wanted to stay in the chilly night air and watch the entertainment to come.

After several minutes of waiting, a car pulled into the lot, the headlights off. Craig stepped out of his truck, icy eyes positively glowing in the dusk light. Tweek followed, his tiny form slinking around awkwardly. With a predatory grin, Stan slithered up to them.

"Hey there." He said smoothly.

"GAH!" Tweek yelped, jumping and clutching onto the closest thing in the immediate area. Which just so happened to be Craig.

"S'okay, dude." Stan chuckled, his gravely voice echoing.

"What brings you here, Marsh?" Craig asked tightly.

"I'm gonna help you negotiate." Stan pointed out cheekily. Cartman taught me his moneymaking tricks.

"If the phrase, 'you're breaking my balls', is used once..." Craig threatened dryly, eyes glazed over with a sense of detachment.

"Oh what do you know." Stan retorted. Twisting his attention back to Tweek, the raven settled a hand into the blonde's messy hair. "You aren't gonna leave Craig to fend for himself, are you?" He asked keenly, eyes sparkling.

"I d-don't know." Tweek muttered, eyes flitting downwards and finding a sudden interest in his shoes.

"You should." Stan scolded.

"I'm confused." Tweek whispered, lacking stutter. His palms were completely destroyed, drying red blood crusting his digits.

"You really should stop doing that." Stan crinkled his nose up in disgust. With a tiny smack, he took Tweek's hands and set them at the teenager's sides. "It's really gross, dude."

"Sorry." Tweek managed.

The bright luminescent shine of lights alerted the teenagers of the Tweak's arrival. The artificial light died down, and the car halted to a low hum. A man stepped out, a woman after.

The man was short and stocky, brown hair clean shaven and matching his deep chocolate eyes. The only resemblance he seemed to posses with his son was the shape of his bare features. His head, nose, and body structure was very likewise to the younger. The lady looked much closer in appearance, with doe-eyes and a lanky posture. Her lips were pursed together in a nervous sort of curtness.

"You!" Mrs. Tweak yelled. "Where's our son?"

Stan grabbed Tweek roughly by the collar of his shirt, his one arm doing a surprisingly adequate job of keeping Tweek in submission. "Here he is."

"We have the ransom money, just give us our boy back." Mr. Tweak said sternly. He reached into his pocket and threw a pocket wallet onto the concrete.

"Ah, but let's make this fun!" Stan said cheerfully, eyes narrowing down to increase the effect of the show. "Tweek, how about YOU choose where you want to go?" He patted Tweek on the shoulder.

The neurotic boy's lip quivered as he evaluated his choices. His eyes darted back and forth, catching the icy gaze of Craig's that absolutely begged him to stay. With a large gulp of air, he stepped towards his parents.

"Mom; dad." He murmured, hugging his mother sweetly.

Mrs. Tweek embraced her son, smiling kindly. "We missed you, hon." She promised.

"I know." Tweek felt the guilt in his chest again as a weak sense of nervousness wreaked his stomach. Beads of sweat trailed down his face. "B-but you're gonna h-have to miss m-me for a little l-longer." He said quickly.

"What? I don't understand." Mr. Tweak scratched his head. The mellow man really couldn't care less of Tweek's choices. If he was happy, why bother?

"I n-need to stay h-here a l-l-little while longer," the blonde explained. "I'm s-so sorry."

"But-"

Tweek shook his head. He'd seen something. There had been a brief flash of dejection and desperation filling Craig's gaze. Something that told Tweek he couldn't stand to let anyone go. The flash that meant he didn't want to be left behind for forgotten. Tweek knew that look very well. he even wore it on some occasions. "I c-can't l-leave them." He whispered, praying he was making the right decision. "I'm s-still confused." he said admittedly. "b-but if its a-alright, I'd l-like to s-stay."

Very slowly Mr. Tweak shook his head yes, smiling. Maybe Tweek was finally growing up. The teenager suddenly looked a little older, the moon reflecting off his milky skin in such a way that made his cheekbones look higher, and his eyes look more sunken in.

"Stay safe, Son. Like a cold winter's brew, held snugly with a canister." Mr. Tweak explained.

"The metaphors, man!" Tweek groaned.


	12. END NOTE PLEASE READ

Before I say anything else, I ought to say one very important thing.

**I am so sorry. **

Like, seriously. I realized a while ago that writing has two parts; the idea and how you carry it out. I'm totally on the band wagon with Gangster stories, like, if you haven't read 'First Of The Gang To Die', you have to. Now. But that really isn't why I'm writing this authors note that nobody will read.

The bolded text says it all. I'm sorry. Out of the two parts of writing, I'm sure the creativity comes somewhat naturally to me. Sure, I need some help every now and then, like, inspiration. But doesn't everyone? I'm not saying anything I write is creative, because in all honesty? It's not. It's run-of-the-mill fantasy that anyone thinks up once they read certain text.

All in all, in my writing, I still need to work on it.

A whole lot.

So I need to apologize for a lot of things. My awkward, unstable writing style, the complete OOC problems, the cliché, the bad humor, the lack of humor thereof, the plot holes and inconsistencies, and the fact that as of right now, the last chapter of this Fanfiction has been written. I will not re-write the chapters to better likings, as much as I would enjoy.

And now I need to thank you.

For one simple reason. Dealing with all of the above.

And here is the list of people I want to thank from the reviews. Nobody is actually gonna read this... 

**Stranger**; Thanks for pointing out those stupid Plotholes. For the sake of trying not to embarrass myself more, lets just say Mr. Tweak was totally tripping balls.

**AndThenIDied**; I can't write cliffhangers... But it's good that someone notices the excess amount of Highschool Stereotypicalness.

**Luke**; That was one person... And people in Cleveland speak like that sometimes. So I'm using experience...

**Creek Grrl**; Wow. That made me soooo happy. And it's good that I made your last normal day of school nice before I dropped this on you.

**LoveKyman**; I'm glad I made you interested enough to read this. You're a cool cat.

**Style Marshlovski; **Besides reviewing on every chapter (I love you for that), You're more than awesome with the predictions. And, yes, the quarrel between Craig and Stan was supposed to be about Kyle. I feel so horrible that I don't have enough inspiration to elaborate... Sorry, again...

**RockQueen98**; Short but sweet, right?

**WeAreTheGrapes**; Holy Jesus, I love that name. I want to be a grape too.

**Summmmer**; So many M's. thanks for the review!

**TrioF**; might I ask what that Username means? Mine is pretty apparent, but I can't tell if that's an inside joke or...? Thanks for your Reviews, the "Update Please" never ceases to make me happy.

**Pattixcrona**; Dude I literally cracked up at your long WHHHHAAAATTT? Thanks for the review!

**Brown Sugar-Sweet Vanilla; **I suck at making long chapters... Sorry dude. And I love the formality. You are an awesome sir/ma'am.

**IDEK**; Like above, may I ask what your name means? I can't stand not getting abbreviations.

**Yunnie95**; Someone likes my stories! *derpface*

**Rosy2lee2**; he's a boxer, remember? And FUCK YES, BUNNY-CRAIG!

**R**; Actually, I think that was very cliché. I mean, it's not cliché if someone else can read it aloud and the writer isn't embarrassed. If someone read that scene out loud to me, I'd probably bury myself in fluffy pillows and never get up.

**Maddoxtheinvincible**; Dude, you're way cool, Nyah? I love that Alice In Wonderland thing you did, it's so perfectly creepy like, OH MAHGAWSH.

**TamiLove**; Drunk people are so funny.

**Guest**; CRAIGIFER IS THE BEST NAME.

**Tiffanybane**; believe it or not, I got this whole idea from a mixture of an IFunny post and First of The Gang.

**Sir monocle**; You, sir, are awarded with the longest, and first review for this Fanfiction. I amend you.

Oh yeah, and one more thing. _FUCK YOU, NETFLIX. _They got rid of South Park because they're in DEBT. I need to send them a very angry letter, and I will literally sign for any Fangirls out there who ask me to. And Comedy Central doesn't put SP on enough, but they're still awesome so I'll give them a suggestion letter...

I love you Fangirls.

END OF FANFICTION. 


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